I know it must happen, carrying a squirmy little one and he/she gets out of the hold and drops to the ground taking a hard fall.
I’m wondering about the frequency that this happens, is it that most people have been dropped, or just a small number of people? I am particularly interested in the %age that takes a very hard fall, one that they would associate with pain and then perhaps shows fear/insecurity in being held after the fall.
I don’t know that a hard fall from a parent’s arms would make a small child be afraid of being held. If we are talking about the age when a 4 ft fall is a “very hard fall” we are talking about very young babies, ones that are held much of the time. I am not sure they’d identify the “being held” as the stimulus that led to the fall.
I entered the Earth’s atmosphere pretty hard the first time I attempted it. That hurt. Caused some fear. Fear is the Mind Killer. Next time, I sheared off momentum with an Earth/Moon* loop maneuver first.
My sister dropped me when I was three days old. She was ten… and remembers it like it was yesterday. I tripped carrying my five month old son. He hit his head pretty good, and I still have a wicked scar on my hand. But as far as I know, he didn’t make the connection between falling and being held. It seems all he wants is for me to hold him.
My mother wiped out her bike with both my sister and I on the back when we were very young. I have no recollection of this incident, but I do associate it with the local library, since my mother was traumatized enough to bring it up whenever we went to the library.
I fell off a bed after being left there unsupervised…my grandmother turned her back, and I rolled off. I was tiny when it happened. There was no lasting damage, other than my mom being really, really shaken by the event.
I was 3 when we moved into our new house. They still hadn’t put a railing on the basement stairs. So I fell off the top step, landing on my head onto the cement basement floor. I remember them taking me to the hospital. I have no idea whether there was a diagnosis or anything.
My nanny gave me a penetrating wound below the lower lip. The two-stitch scar is visible 50 years later. It sprouts hair, which is a bother if I use a straight razor when shaving. I gave up and switched to triple blades.
The first time I walked on my own (they tell me), I got out of my crib, walked past my mother (who was talking on the kitchen telephone) and right to the basement door, which had been thoughtfully opened by our dog. I promptly fell down the stairs. Twelve of them.
They rushed me to the doctor, where my father told them to x-ray me.
“What part of him?”
“ALL of him!”
As far as I know, it didn’t affect me adversely. This is why they make kid skeletons out of cartilage.
I’ve had plenty of other bad things happen to me as a kid. I’ll tell you about them sometime.